What's In a Name
by Selena Snow
Summary: It started with a name…okay, well, technically it started with him going to the support workshop and getting his new sleeves, but that's beside the point. Now that he had it, though, a name was a good place to start, right?A KirishimaxOC fic.


**So it has come to my attention that there is not enough fanfiction of our best boi Kirishima falling in love with an OC, and this is unacceptable. Enjoy!**

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Hair? Cool navy blue.

Eye? Deep purple.

Height? Short enough to make him want to wrap her up in a blanket and be sure she was always safe there. Not that he doubted her abilities— even though she wasn't in the hero course, he was sure she had a fighting spirit just like everyone else at U.A.!

To summarize, she was the cutest girl he'd ever seen. There wasn't a doubt in his mind. He just wished he knew her name.

Given that Kirishima wasn't a creep like Mineta, he hadn't taken extraordinary lengths to track her down through weird online searches. But even his mind had been wandering there recently, if only out of desperation. Not to randomly text her or stalk her house or something, no! That's definitely not manly.

All he truly wanted was her name.

Because without it, things felt so strange. Kirishima knew he had at least the beginnings of a crush on her, what with how much she ran through his brain all the time. He'd even spaced out in class yesterday and gotten called out by Aizawa-sensei!

He'd see her passing in the halls, chatting amiably with friends or tucking her hair behind her ear, and for whatever reason, he felt drawn to her. Kirishima had experienced crushes before— little childhood things where you think about giving the girl at the playground a flower and holding hands. With her, though, it was something different.

She was beautiful in every way. Her smiles were bright and genuine, if not a little timid at times. Her laughter sounded like the songs of angels; he could remember with crystal clear clarity the first time he heard it echoing down the hall. His heart had skipped so many beats he'd considered going to see Recovery Girl.

There was something about her he couldn't quite put a finger on. For as much as he thought about her, he hardly knew anything about her: just a face, a smile, and the occasional laughter that tickled his ears.

So obviously this situation had to be fixed. He needed to man up, find the courage to introduce himself, get to know her better, and finally feed this niggling curiosity.

But how was he ever supposed to begin talking to her if he didn't even have a name to open with?

Thankfully, today was his lucky day.

Truth be told, he should have gone to the support workshop ages ago. Almost everyone else in his class had been showing off their new upgrades, and he wasn't about to be left in the dust. What kind of hero would he be if he didn't use every resource he had to his advantage?

Plus, a hero who kept accidentally hurting those he rescued isn't really much of a hero.

'Gloves?' he wondered to himself as he walked down the hall toward the workshop. Kirishima stared down at his hands, reflexively hardening them as his thoughts wandered. 'Yeah, maybe gloves would be good. Couldn't hurt anyone that way…but what if they're restrictive? I don't want anything like what Bakugo has…I would barely be able to move my hands in something like that. And what if they become too tight when I harden my fingers? Then the gloves might burst off. That'd be useless.'

Kirishima shook his head and pushed the idea aside. There was a reason he was going to the experts, after all. Power Loader— or maybe even that hyper girl with the pink hair— would know what to do.

He willed his hand back to normal, then pushed the workshop door open. The smell of smoke filled his nose. He fought the urge to wrinkle it, instead glancing around the seemingly empty room.

"Eh…hello?" Kirishima called out.

"Be there in a second!" Power Loader's voice replied. It sounded like he was off somewhere in one of the side rooms.

Kirishima contented himself by putting his hands in his pockets patiently. He began to walk around, eyes scanning various works in progress with curious eyes. He vaguely wondered if the support students knew how appreciated they were. The way other students said it sometimes, "support" almost seemed like an insult, like they were lower than the hero course. But Kirishima knew better. Most pros wouldn't be where they were today without support teams— their work was simply invaluable.

His train of thought was cut off by the shuffling of shoes. Red eyes flickered to the left, expecting to see Power Loader…

…only to meet familiar purple eyes.

They were wide, Kirishima noted. She regarded him with confusion, almost like she had no idea how on earth he'd wound up there. Wait a second…was she a support student? He'd guessed general studies. Huh, well, just another reason he needed to get to know her! His knowledge on her was hilariously limited.

It then suddenly occurred to Kirishima that the two were just staring at each other in silence.

"Ari?"

The two jolted, heads whipping around to where Power Loader was emerging from his office. He gave his student a relieved look. "Ah, great, can you take care of Kirishima for a few minutes, Ari? I just need a bit longer with this phone call— they're lecturing me on the regulations for Kaminari's equipment. Hatsume's going to kill me when I tell her the design firm demanded that she lower the maximum voltage."

_'Ari,'_ Kirishima internally sighed. 'That's so pretty.' His eyes drifted back to her. He found that her gaze was focused, narrow, almost like she was silently communicating something to her sensei. A few seconds into the stare down, though, she seemed to concede.

Deep purple eyes turned to land on him, immediately flickering down slightly. "Follow me."

Kirishima could have melted into a puddle on the spot. He'd never heard her voice before. Her laugh, yes, but her voice…geez, he'd never heard something so soft and bewitching all at once.

He did as he was told, making sure to give Power Loader a respectful nod before the two teens made their way back to what was apparently her station.

Ari— her name was _Ari!_— sat down at a large desk, only to quickly hop back up. "Oh! Sorry, let me get you a seat," she said. She ran over to a chair with wheels on it, dragging it over and placing it next to her own.

Kirishima blinked. He felt a little bad— it wasn't manly to have her get a chair for him, after all. He could have gotten it himself. Then again, he felt like he could barely say anything right now due to the high levels of shock he was in. He was in such a daze that even his manners had been tossed to the wayside.

He sat down in the chair slowly, taking the time to look at the environment around him. It was clear that the neighboring station belonged to Hatsume. The table was covered almost entirely in steampunk themed gear, not an inch of desk space to be seen.

Ari's area, however, was spotless. Her tools her lined up neatly on the wall, a notebook (which she was grabbing now) sat in the middle, and next to it was a cat mug filled with pens. Delicate fingers grabbed one, and the click of the pen was the only thing that brought Kirishima back to reality.

"So, what can I do for you?" Ari asked. She didn't look up from her notebook, and Kirishima found himself frowning. He hoped he didn't make her nervous. He wanted her to be comfortable around him, or at least at ease enough so that maybe one day, the two of them could go out just the two of them and—

He mentally slapped himself. Now wasn't the time to daydream. "Right! Well, my quirk can sort of…be a problem in rescue situations," Kirishima told her, scratching the back of his head awkwardly.

She hummed, "Hardening, right?"

Thankfully, her eyes were still on her paper. Otherwise he was sure she would have caught the surprise on his face. "Y-Yeah! I just…don't wanna hurt people, you know? That's not very heroic."

Silence followed, along with the sound of her pen scratching on the paper. Kirishima swallowed. Maybe he should keep going? More details the better, probably.

"I can control my quirk enough with a lot of focus," he continued, "but if I'm in the middle of a battle, then it's too chaotic for me to change the hardness levels in only certain areas of my body. I usually hurt people the most with my arms or hands when I'm picking them up."

Ari nodded. She continued writing for a few more seconds, then finally, met his eyes again. "Alright, I think that's enough information to get started on," she decided. Her gaze darted away for a moment. "I, um…well, Power Loader will be doing most of the work, but he's getting me to do the rough drafts to be submitted. For the experience and stuff," she tacked on.

Kirishima couldn't help but smile. "Sounds like a lot of fun!"

The only response he got was a little shrug, but he did notice that the corner of her mouth had gone up. He watched (admittedly, still dazed) as she stood and reached for a tape measure. She made a few more notes in her book, then turned and motioned her hand upward. Kirishima tilted his head in confusion.

"Sorry, I need you to stand," Ari clarified. "Measurements. They won't be accurate if you're sitting."

His eyes widened. "Oh!" Kirishima practically jumped out of his chair. "Of course! I should be the one saying sorry— I should've figured out what you were saying," he chuckled.

And again, the little corner of her mouth lifted a bit. She stepped closer, and that was the moment Kirishima realized he didn't know how to breathe anymore.

One gentle hand was on his right arm, lifting it up to be parallel with the ground. The tape measure slipped around his bicep. Kirishima wished he wasn't so painfully aware of the meres inches between them.

The first minute passed in stiff silence, with Ari taking measurements and dutifully writing them down, and Kirishima wishing there was some way to ensure he didn't burst. He wondered if this was how Bakugo felt all the time, except, you know, the happy version instead of the mad version.

'Come on, say something,' he told himself. 'It's not that hard. You talk to plenty of people all the time! You're good at making friends!'

Kirishima's mouth had just started to open when his brain picked up something new.

A soft tune had broken through the quiet, swirling through the air and just barely meeting his ears. Kirishima blinked. Was Ari humming?

The melody got louder as she shifted to measure near his left shoulder, and his eyes widened. It _was_ her! Even better, he swore he knew the song. Kirishima closed his eyes and focused. It was so familiar…ah!

"That's from that American band, right?" he questioned. "What was it…Twenty Two Pilots?"

There was a little jolt behind him. "I-It's uh…Twenty One Pilots, actually. Sorry, I didn't realize I was doing that."

He shook his head, "No need to apologize! I like it! I remember liking that song a lot when it first came out— haven't listened to it in a while, though. Do you like American music?"

"Probably more than most," she replied, tightening the measuring tape around his other bicep. She left to write down the number, then came back, a pensive look in her eyes as she then measured his forearm. "I mostly like classic rock, but Twenty One Pilots slipped into the mix, as well."

A grin came onto his face. Now there were having a conversation! "What groups do you like in particular?" he inquired.

"Mm…Led Zepplin," she replied. "Queen, The Rolling Stones, Black Sabbath. It can get loud in here sometimes, but it helps me think, and Power Loader doesn't mind too much."

Ari was humming now, staring off into space as she thought more about his question. Kirishima watched her happily— that is, until he noticed that her grip on the tape measure had gone slack. Her fingers, so dainty and adorable, were resting lightly on his arm, tapping rhythmically. It was almost like the tapping matched the rhythm of her thoughts. Her expressions kept changing, seemingly each time something new passed through her mind.

His heart squeezed. 'So _cute_.'

Another moment passed (during which Kirishima was holding his breath) before Ari's attention snapped back to him. "Sorry, I can be sort of spacey."

"I-It's okay! Really!" he laughed. "I think it's cool you're into American music! Not a ton of people I've met are. I can tell it means a lot to you! Makes you stand out!"

A brief spark entered purple eyes, and that was all the affirmation he needed. She was moving away now. Ari sat down and wrote her final notes. A curious glance up was the only thing that alerted him to the fact that he was still standing.

Kirishima quickly took a seat again. He waited patiently as she grabbed a folder out of a drawer and began sketching on a sheet inside it. Why did he feel jittery right now? It wasn't bad…more like weightless? Yeah, weightless. Almost like Uraraka had activated her quirk on him.

He was floating, the past fifteen minutes seeming all too much like a dream to be true. He simply didn't know what to do with someone like her. She was a little on the shy side, but if anything, it was endearing rather than off putting. And she was clearly skilled, too, given the copious notes she was taking. Ari was probably like a bunch of people he'd met here— talented and needing the push to realize it.

"So," she said suddenly, breaking him out of his millionth mental tangent, "What we're looking for is something that can withstand extreme changes in force, a material that has high impact strength. Something like tungsten and chromium is strong, but too brittle— you'd break it each time you activated your quirk. I think the best option would be maraging steel. Not too heavy, but not weak, either. A lot of the pro design firms have found a way to weave it into fabric due to its ductility, and we can use that to design sleeves to protect anyone you're carrying. Only having the sleeves will allow you to still use your quirk with your hands as needed in case of an emergency where you need to switch back to offense."

Ari flipped the page she was sketching on around, and Kirishima found himself staring at the original mockup of his costume. He noticed the added aforementioned sleeves, along with arrows and little side notes he couldn't understand for the life of him.

She stared at him as he studied it, and that's when he realized that she'd spoken with complete and utter confidence. There hadn't been an apology, a stutter— she knew she was right. Kirishima couldn't help but be impressed.

"Woah," he breathed. "That all sounds…well, you're the expert! Sounds good to me!"

For some reason, purple eyes shattered. Ari blinked, shook her head, and looked away. "I-I, uh…here, let's go check with Power Loader, just to be sure." She got up and walked away hurriedly, leaving Kirishima tilting his head before he finally had the sense to follow after her.

By the time he reached Power Loader's office, he was only able to catch part of the conversation.

"—so then why are doubting yourself? You're right, you always are. You know this, Ari."

There was a small huff from the girl— Kirishima noted with intrigue that she had crossed her arms. Maybe she's more herself around people she's known longer?

"I just wanted to make sure," Ari retorted, though her voice was still soft. "You're the pro, not me."

"And you're the pro in training," her sensei replied with ease. "I know what you're capable of. You haven't messed up once yet. When you do, I'll point it out, and we'll figure out what to do next together."

Kirishima cleared his throat. The pair turned to look at him, and he gave a sheepish grin. "Didn't meant to eavesdrop…so, intelligence? Is that your quirk? Sure seems like it to me!"

Ari shook her head. "No, my quirk is Zoom. I can see things on an atomic level."

"Wow!" he laughed. "I bet that's awesome! Either way, all that stuff— the design, and the thought that goes into it— it's all incredibly impressive! I couldn't understand a word you just said, but I guess that's why I'm not in the support classes like you are," he joked.

Her head tilted, navy hair spilling onto her shoulder. "You say that like being in the support course is preferred, even though everyone at U.A. knows that being in the hero course is—"

"It's called a compliment, Ari, you should take it."

The teenager jumped upon hearing her sensei's chiding tone. A flush was rushing onto Ari's face. "O-Oh, right!" she stammered. She whirled around to fully face Kirishima, bowing a bit. "Thank you very much, ah…I'm so sorry, I already forgot your name…?"

"Kirishima," he supplied. He told himself the heat in his cheeks was just because of the warmer than usual weather that day. "Kirishima Eijiro. And you?"

Ari stood back up to her full height. "Ito Amaririsu," she nodded meekly. "I really am sorry, I just— well, you probably don't know this, but the support students are quizzed on the current hero students and their abilities," she explained. "I find it easier to memorize hero names, so I really only knew you as Red Riot, which…might be kind of rude, sorry."

Kirishima took in all of this new information with a broad smile. So Ari was a nickname then, huh? And she was already familiar with who he was? That was a little weird to think about, but…maybe it could be a good thing!

She gave him a hesitant grin, then motioned for him to follow her back toward her station. He obeyed dutifully. When they arrived, she made quick work of grabbing a piece of paper and a pen.

"Here," she offered the items to him. "The sleeves should be done within a couple days— I'll need your contact information, unless you want to have to run over here all the time to check if it's ready."

'Doesn't sound like a bad idea if I'd get to see you,' he thought. Then again, he didn't want to be a distraction while she worked— that probably wouldn't get him into her good graces.

He filled out the contact form without a second thought, then handed it back to her. Their fingers brushed during the exchange. Kirishima swore his face was the same color as his hair.

Still, he was grinning ear to ear. "Thanks a bunch! Can't wait to see how they turn out, Ito!"

A hint of the look from before entered her eyes— a spark of confidence he was dying to see ignite ablaze. "You'll like it, I'm sure," she nodded simply.

His smile widened even more, and with a friendly wave, he left the workshop to head in the direction of the dorms.

It took him until the halfway point on his walk back to realize that she now had his phone number.

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**I do have plans on continuing this, but it definitely won't be a consistent upload schedule. If you have any ideas for the plot (seeing as how I'm still in the midst of hammering it out), then I welcome suggestions! Thanks!**


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